Drug Rehab Addiction Treatment Success Story
Drug intervention saved my life. There really is no other way to put it.
My story is one that I am not proud of but I accept. I only hope that in telling it, my story resonates with someone who might need help, or is questioning if an intervention is the right route for a loved one.
I was a drug addict for years before I was saved. I must use the word saved because I was lucky enough to have loved ones cared for me and would not let me be my own worst enemy.
I am not sure when I lost control over my behavior. When I was younger I had lofty goals. I wanted to make a name for myself, yet still be apart of something bigger than just me. Drug use dissolved those dreams from my life goals, and replaced them with drug seeking behavior. When I was at my lowest point I would frequently throw-up blood due to stomach ulcers, I could barely eat solid food due to the cavities in my teeth. Hardly the picture of a leader. Hardly a person at that point.
My drug use started much like others. I was a bored young man in my early twenties and no one was going to tell me what I could and could not put in my body. Typical of the age, my ego lead me to believe I was invincible. Foolish thoughts.
You see I am a manic-depressive. When I was a little kid the doctors just said I had ADHD. I have always had this energy that seems to spring eternal. I wake up with it and used to have a terrible time trying to fall asleep most nights. I was just soo amped up. Amped to the point I was spastic and hard to others to be around. There were also times I felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I would get so sad I was a black hole of happiness. Again, others could not be around me because of the intensity I would apply to my cynicism.
Being a manic depressive is incredibly painful as well. Mostly because it is a disorder hidden in your brain. People cannot see it like they can see a broken arm or a laceration. It is a disease of your very thoughts. This is why it is painful, when I was young I had no sense of who I was because when I was in the manic state it was like I was a totally different person than when I was in my depressed state. What set of thoughts do I believe? Which are real? Others had no idea I was waging a war inside my mind. All they could do was judge what was going on internally with me by my behavior. I would often lash out at people and this caused them to shy away from me, which was also painful. I had no understanding of bi-polar disorder, I understood confusion and pain, that was it. It was later that I achieved this understanding, first I had to travel a broken road.
I would drink socially. I quickly learned that this was a bad idea. Like I said I had a nasty habit of lashing out at people, and when I was drunk this lead to fights, and if I was really sad I would turn on myself. Tattoos now cover the scars from the cuts I created when I was stinking drunk.
I was lost and in denial. I was often alone in self imposed ostracization. It was a fateful conversation that lead me down the path of drug abuse.
On a night when I was attempting to successfully socialize yet not doing a very good job I could feel myself looking for a wall to go become a flower on. A new roommate that had just moved in asked me if I wanted to go upstairs to the apartments above the bar with a few people from the group we were in. Feeling like I was not in my scene I went. As it turns out the invite was to smoke pot. I initially balked at the idea, but I relented quickly because of the mood I was in I thought “what the hell why not?” Unfortunately, I liked the experience.
Things moved pretty quickly from there. Smoking pot seemed to help me manage my bi-polar symptoms, so I started trying other drugs to see how they made me feel. I because obsessed with just not being sober. I would jokingly say “being sober just has such nasty side effects on me.” I had quite the drug collection going too. I would open my nightstand drawer and gaze upon my horde. Pathetic I know, but that is the bitch of addiction, denial. For me, drugs were the solution, not the problem. The problem to me was the people that got in my way of drug seeking behavior, did they not understand I was doing this to help myself!? This type of thought process is typical of addicts and why they are so hard to reason with.
My addiction was not to just one drug. I was addicted to not having to be me. I started to hate the flesh I was composed of and was determined to end the pain. Feeling like I had exhausted my options suicide crept into my mind. I had an uncle that committed suicide when he was in his early twenties, was that my fate as well?
Now for the uplifting part.
I mentioned before that I had loved ones that cared for me and refused to let me be my own worst enemy. Monday April 15, 2013 I was two weeks late on rent again and feeling like I needed to use again to escape the mounting stress my very existence was giving me. I walked into my apartment to find my immediate family sitting there, with a person I did not recognize. It was this this person who spoke.
“Your family is here because they love you.” Those are the words that are seared into my memory because shortly afterward I started bawling. My family said they were not angry with me, or judged me, they just wanted to see me get help. I knew I needed help, I knew I was drowning and losing the strength to keep my head above water.
That day I was transferred to a dual diagnosis rehab program. Dual diagnosis meaning the therapists on staff were able to diagnose be as a manic-depressive and put together a personalized plan for me to find sobriety. I followed. I listened, I opened up. It was not easy, especially detoxing but I had good support. I started studying bi-polar disorder and how mindful meditation and natural supplements can help mitigate the symptoms.
I hope my story helps someone realize addicts are in tremendous pain. I also feel no shame in telling it because it is mine and I own every action I have ever chosen to take part in. We live in a guilt based society where drug users are equated with monsters. This only serves to push addicts further into their own bizarre reality, giving them the “me vs. the world” mentality. I was saved. I was lucky because I was too deluded to seek help. I truly believe I owe my life to those who intervened with my drug use. I have been clean for three years now with my first child on the way. There was a time I thought this would never happen for me, being a happy functioning adult. It was the intervention that altered my trajectory to becoming another overdose or suicide statistic.
I thank my lucky stars I had people who believed in me more than I did.
Christopher T.
Philadelphia, PA
Drub Rehab PA